


see each other face to face

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Drunken Kissing, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, this story has no conflict besides hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5696470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they finally do get back to Matt’s place and miraculously up the stairs, Matt leans back against his front door and grins when Foggy says, “Well, normally I’d go for the traditional kiss at the door, but you’re pretty drunk, I’d hate to take advantage of you.”</p><p>“He’s a gentleman, too,” Matt says, and Foggy laughs, leans in to jokingly kiss Matt’s cheek when Matt turns his face at the same time, so Foggy ends up kissing the corner of his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Write something substantial, Chelsea," I told myself. "You have an English degree. Write something with _meaning_." 
> 
> Anyway, this is more fluffy porn!!!
> 
> This is also to fill a prompt on Tumblr that I adored and forgot about. This chapter doesn't fill the prompt yet but the second (and final) one will: _Prompt: Matt pulling Foggy into bed by his tie. Either in a hot blooded dominant way or in a shy, kittenish, 'don't you want me?' sort of way_. I'll post it on Tumblr then.  <33

“And _that_ ,” Foggy says, with an unnecessary flourish of his hand, “is the story of how I almost got arrested for vandalism at the tender age of thirteen.”

“I’ve heard that story five times,” Matt says, shaking his head, “and I _still_ can’t believe that I’m in business with such a hardened criminal.”

He’s straight-faced for approximately five seconds before he leans more heavily into Foggy and cracks up, turning to bury his face in Foggy’s shoulder. Right now, they’re about fifteen minutes away from Matt’s apartment if they were sober—probably, like, forty-five in reality since tonight involved tequila and Matt keeps getting distracted by noises and stopping to pet people’s dogs.

“Hey,” Foggy says. “I’ll have you know I gave up my life of crime that very night. I’ve been on the straight and narrow since then.”

“Of course,” Matt agrees. “A veritable saint.”

“You know it, Murdock,” Foggy says, brightly. Matt’s arm slips from Foggy’s shoulders to his waist as they walk, and Foggy makes what he thinks is an admirable attempt to keep them upright, all things considered.

When they finally do get back to Matt’s place and miraculously up the stairs, Matt leans back against his front door and grins when Foggy says, “Well, normally I’d go for the traditional kiss at the door, but you’re pretty drunk, I’d hate to take advantage of you.”

“He’s a gentleman, too,” Matt says, and Foggy laughs, leans in to jokingly kiss Matt’s cheek when Matt turns his face at the same time, so Foggy ends up kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, wow,” Foggy says. “That. . .was an accident.”

“Oh,” Matt says, eyes wide behind his glasses.  

They stare at each other for a long moment before Matt suddenly moves forward to slide a hand over Foggy’s cheek and pull him into another kiss, a real one—Foggy gasps out another _oh_ before he kisses back, enthusiastically, licking into Matt’s open mouth. One of Matt’s hands tangles in his hair, the other sliding down to grab his hip, and this—maybe Foggy’s drunker than he thought, but _this_ feels like that first breath after you’ve been underwater for too long, like _surfacing_.

They’re reminded, a couple of minutes later, that they’re making out like teenagers in the hallway when someone opens their door close by and Matt pulls away with a gasp.

“Uhm,” he says.

“Yeah,” Foggy agrees.

“Well,” Matt says, laughing softly. “Good night?”

Foggy stares at Matt’s mouth, which is red and swollen. He _did that_.

“Yeah,” he says, again. “Good night.”

Matt fumbles with his key and slips inside his apartment, shutting the door behind him. Foggy stands quietly in the hallway for awhile before he whispers, “What the hell, Murdock,” and goes home.

*

The first thing that Foggy does when he wakes up in the morning is call Matt.

Okay, that’s a lie. The first thing he does when wakes up in the morning is throw up, and the second thing he does is brush his teeth, and the _third_ thing he does is sit on his bathroom floor for a long time and think very hard about what happened last night.

The fourth thing he does is collapse back on his bed and call Matt, who answers after eight rings with a hoarse, “You know I can’t turn my ringtone off, why would you do this to me.”

“Good morning, Matt,” Foggy says, calmly. 

Matt sighs.

“I think my brain is eating itself, Foggy,” he says.

“That’s what happens when your body was recently seventy percent tequila,” Foggy replies. “You know what else happens when your body was recently seventy percent tequila?”

Matt’s silent for a long moment before he offers, quietly, “Kind of great kissing?”

“Kind of?” Foggy asks.

“Sorry,” Matt says. “ _Really_ great kissing.”  

“Better. Anyway, just thought I’d call and make sure you remembered,” Foggy says, with a sudden rush of harrowing confidence, “so you wouldn’t be surprised when I kiss you again at work today.”

Foggy holds his breath. That was either way too forward or _real smooth_.

Matt laughs, startled, a soft huff of breath against the phone, before he says, “Thanks for the warning.”

“No problem, buddy,” Foggy replies. “Get moving, I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up and immediately drops his phone on the bed, staring at it with wide eyes. Things are going _down_. He’s got to take a shower. He’s got to—yeah, he’s got to throw up again, but after that: _shower_.

*

Foggy rushes to get ready and practically power walks to their office, but Matt still beats him. He’s sitting on the edge of Foggy’s desk, looking completely calm and normal except for his hair, which is all over the place.

“Hi,” Matt says, when Foggy steps inside.

“Hi,” Foggy says. He stays still for a moment before he steps forward compulsively to card his fingers through Matt’s hair to smooth it down, adding nervously, “You definitely forgot one step in your beauty regime, man, this bed head is really something.”

Matt smiles, slow and cautious, before he reaches up until his fingers trip over Foggy’s wrist and he can slide them down to take Foggy’s hand.

“ _Hi_ ,” he repeats, eyebrows arched, expectant.

“Oh,” Foggy says, “Hi,” then leans in to kiss Matt—who _wants_ it, clearly, opens his mouth for him immediately which Foggy is pretty sure means, on junior high terms, that he’s allowed to touch his bra strap or something, but he settles for skimming his fingers over Matt’s chest to rest on his side. Foggy’s pretty sure he’s blushing. This is ridiculous.

They are actual adults, grown ass men; kissing isn’t supposed to _be like this_ _anymore_.

“Oh my god,” he says, pulling away enough to see Matt looking dazed and pleased.

“Right?” Matt murmurs.

“I mean, oh my _god_ ,” Foggy says. “Why haven’t we been doing this forever? For years?”

“We’re idiots,” Matt says, firmly. “I’ve always said that about us.”

“It’s true, we’re really dumb,” Foggy says, leaning in to kiss Matt again, almost pushing him over his desk until Matt eventually pulls back and says something about Karen and, oh, yeah, other people exist, like, in the world. It’s not just them here.

“Come home with me,” Matt says.

“Now?” Foggy asks. “Right now? Because I’m good with now.”

Matt grins, ducks his head.

“After work,” he says, standing up to press a kiss to Foggy’s cheek before he goes to his own office, leaving Foggy there to suffer alone thinking about exactly what this means. He's always been kind of lowkey in love with Matt, in a funny way where it didn't really matter, but. He's pretty sure it  _matters_ now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We just need to sit down,” Foggy says, letting go of him and taking a step away. “Sit down several inches apart and not touch each other.”
> 
> “Right,” Matt says.
> 
> They go to sit in the conference room, Matt on one side of the table and Foggy on the other. They’re silent for a long moment before Matt’s foot slides up against Foggy’s, and Foggy sighs and says, “You’re extremely bad at this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set ambiguously somewhere between Karen showing up and Nelson vs. Murdock which doesn’t function well if you think about it but just don’t do that. No conflict! Alternate universe where there’s no conflict!

Foggy sends Karen to lunch early, telling her that she’s been working too hard, take a long break, have a drink—have _two_. She stands up to look at him with her eyes narrowed before she says, “I’m suspicious because you two look like actual hell right now, but I’ve also been doing paperwork all morning and I could really use a drink. Don’t set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

“We’ll try,” Foggy promises.

Matt steps out of his office as soon as she shuts the door and says, seriously, “We’re not going to have sex on the conference room table.”

Foggy gapes at him for a second before he realizes Matt’s joking, lips curved up, shooting back, “Who says I want to have sex on the conference room table?”

Matt raises his eyebrows, silently.

“I mean,” Foggy says. “I wouldn’t say _no_. What is adulthood if not the god-given right to do whatever you please on your own conference room table? It’s why I pay taxes.”

Matt laughs, face going kind of shy.

“We should probably talk, right?” he asks, stepping forward, reaching out to find Foggy’s arm, squeezing it gently.

“About our feelings?” Foggy asks.

“Do you have those?” Matt asks.

“I have them,” Foggy says, figuring he’s already rubbed his face all over Matt, might as well go for broke. “I’ve—had them.”

“Okay,” Matt says, softly. “Okay, good.”

“. . .and I’m now going to need explicit verbal confirmation that you also have feelings,” Foggy says, “or I’m going to go hide under my desk.”

“I do,” Matt says, earnestly, tripping over the words. “I have—I’ve also had them. For awhile. I just didn’t know what to do with them, exactly.”

Foggy lets out a laugh that feels a whole lot like maybe he was just holding his breath without realizing it, and then he says, “I’ve got a pretty good idea,” and Matt moves in and meets him halfway in a kiss, falling into each other and stumbling backwards with the momentum until the lines of their bodies are pressed together and Matt’s back is up against the wall.

“Sure you don’t want to revisit the table idea?” Foggy mumbles, into the skin of Matt’s neck, and Matt tips his head back to give him better access to it, head hitting the wall with a dull thump and a low moan.

“A client could come in,” he says.

“Matt, honey,” Foggy says, nosing against Matt’s neck before pulling back to look at him, “We don’t have those.”

Matt’s smile is lop-sided and sweet when he murmurs, “Already calling me honey.”

Foggy kisses the smile off his face because, honestly, too much, before he says, “You’re right, though, taking our clothes off in the workplace would be unprofessional, and let me tell you, I’m nothing if not professional.”

“This feels very professional,” Matt says, nodding seriously.

“We just need to sit down,” Foggy says, letting go of him and taking a step away. “Sit down several inches apart and not touch each other.”

“Right,” Matt says.

They go to sit in the conference room, Matt on one side of the table and Foggy on the other. They’re silent for a long moment before Matt’s foot slides up against Foggy’s, and Foggy sighs and says, “You’re extremely bad at this.”

Matt shrugs, smirking up at the ceiling.

“You know,” he says, lightly. “We could send Karen home early. Take a half day.”

“. . .are you suggesting we close early,” Foggy says, “on account of lust?”

“Just this once,” Matt says. “Special occasion.”

Foggy grins at him.

“Get your stuff, I’ll write a sign,” he says. “‘Closed due to sex’.”

“Just the closed part,” Matt says, running his fingers over Foggy’s shoulder as he passes him on the way to his office. He’s waiting by the door when Foggy comes back with a _closed_ sign and the office’s number scrawled on it to slap it on their door with a triumphant noise.

“Alright,” he says, offering his arm to Matt. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

 *

As soon as the door shuts behind them in Matt’s apartment, Matt pushes Foggy up against it and kisses him, cupping his face in both of his hands. 

“Bedroom,” he says.

“Yep,” Foggy agrees, following and watching while Matt undoes his tie and leaves it on the floor in the living room. By the time they actually make it into the bedroom, Matt’s down to an undershirt and he lets go of Foggy to kick off his shoes and climb onto the middle of the bed.

“Are you. . .planning on joining me?” he asks, and Foggy realizes that he’s just been staring at Matt for a good long time, probably because part of him can’t believe this is actually happening.

“I’m just savoring the moment,” he says, and Matt rolls his eyes fondly, crawling forward on his hands and knees to reach out until his fingers glance over Foggy’s chest then curl around the end of his tie. Foggy’s dick is suddenly very insistent that something be done, here.

“Plenty of time for that later,” Matt says, voice low and pretty eyes wide and earnest, pulling slowly so Foggy follows the gesture and lets Matt lead him onto the bed and into a kiss. Matt carefully pushes him down and crawls on top of him to get a better angle, kissing Foggy with a particularly focused enthusiasm that makes Foggy gasp and dig his fingers into the muscles in Matt’s back.

“I’m so mad at myself for not drunkenly kissing you before now,” Foggy says, when they pull apart for air, foreheads resting together.

“And when you had so many opportunities,” Matt says.

“I know, right? I’m pretty sure I was drunk for the _entirety_ of 2012,” Foggy says. “What was I doing?”

Matt kisses him again, slides his mouth over to murmur, “Marci, mostly,” against Foggy’s cheek before he sits up with his legs straddling Foggy’s to pull off his shirt.

“Oh, yeah,” Foggy says, laughing. “You can honestly thank Marci for everything that’s about to happen, she made me what I am today.”

“Mmm, I know, you used to _monologue_ while she went down on you,” Matt says. “You’re not a quiet person.”

“I’m vocal and enthusiastic,” Foggy says, “and also wearing way too much clothing right now.”

Matt makes a quiet _uh huh_ noise and moves to undo Foggy’s tie for him, fingers moving deftly before he tosses it across the room. He unbuttons Foggy’s shirt while Foggy unhelpfully kisses the line of his jaw, scrapes it lightly with his teeth so Matt groans and drags him up to pull the shirt off of him.

Matt’s hands run over Foggy’s chest, fingers digging into Foggy’s sides, saying, “ _Foggy_ ,” softly.

“Dude, I know,” Foggy says, reaching up to cup Matt’s cheek.

Matt looks overwhelmed, leaning into the touch, before he says, “Okay, pants.”

Foggy stands when Matt shifts off of him to finish undressing. When he turns back around, Matt’s kneeling on the bed, his dick hard and curved up towards his stomach. Matt makes a questioning noise when Foggy doesn’t say anything, so Foggy says, “Sorry, I was just—taking all this in.”

“Come _here_ ,” Matt says, laughing, and Foggy climbs up next to him to kiss him again.

“Hey, get back on top of me,” Foggy says, pushing away to lay down. “I was a fan of that.”

Matt straddles his hips again, their dicks sliding together, and Foggy’s moan turns into a low laugh as Matt rocks down against him.

“Friction,” he slurs out, grabbing one of Matt’s hands so he’s holding himself above Foggy with one arm. Foggy licks over his palm and Matt shivers, makes a face at him until he sucks one of Matt’s fingers into his mouth and licks around it—Foggy makes a small, pleased noise when Matt gasps and experimentally slips a second finger past his lips, curling them against his tongue.

“God, Foggy, your _mouth_ ,” he murmurs, pulling them out to slip his hand down until he can circle it around the base of Foggy’s dick.

“Speaking of—could I blow you, maybe?” Foggy asks. “Wait, is it weird to ask? I want to put your dick in my mouth and I don’t know how to properly express that.”

“That works,” Matt says, weakly. “Should I—?”

He slides his hand up Foggy’s dick instead of finishing the question, thumbing over the head, and Foggy says, “Yes, you should.”

Matt settles more of his weight on top of Foggy so he’s not holding himself up, pressing kisses to Foggy’s neck as he slowly jerks him off until Foggy’s raising his hips off the bed and saying, “Could you tighten your hand—yeah, Matt, like that, _fuck_ , just a little faster.”

Matt’s always been a quick study, and soon Foggy’s gasping his name and coming over his hand. Matt kisses him gently on the mouth before he sits up and feels around to find his undershirt and wipe his hand off on it.

“Your turn,” Foggy says, a little hoarsely, squirming out from underneath Matt to move onto his knees on the floor. Matt follows, bare feet settling on the floor on either side of Foggy, and Foggy carefully runs his fingers over the delicate bones of one of them before he leans in to lick around the head of Matt’s dick.

Matt moans automatically, like it’s ripped out of him, one of his hands dropping down to tangle in Foggy’s hair.

“Oh my god,” he says.

“Feel free to continue evoking religious imagery,” Foggy says, ducking down more to take more of Matt, a warm weight on his tongue, starting to move up and down in a quick careful rhythm.

“ _Foggy_ ,” Matt murmurs, the hand that’s not currently petting Foggy’s hair sliding down to trace over his eyebrows, over the bridge of his nose, where his lips are stretched around Matt’s dick. After Foggy reaches up to jerk him off at the same time, Matt makes an _unholy_ noise and comes in Foggy’s mouth.

Foggy swallows, licks over his teeth before he stands back up on shaky legs to collapse on top of Matt, pushing him back onto the bed.

“Holy shit, dude,” he says, pressing his wet mouth to Matt’s clavicle. “We’re good at this.”

Matt pulls Foggy closer, moving them so they’re curled up in the middle of the bed with Foggy still on top of him.

“We’re good at everything,” he replies.

“Yeah, but _especially_ this,” Foggy says.

“I don’t know,” Matt says, speculatively. “I think we could use some practice.”

Foggy snorts, and Matt tightens his arms around him and yawns close to his ear. Everything is warm and smells like sex and Foggy’s probably going to fall asleep in Matt’s bed and maybe stay there forever, because Matt’s right. They have plenty of time.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)! Doing things!


End file.
